Intellectual Curiosity
by Mariel Nightstalker
Summary: James Sirius is infatuated with fellow Professor Marcus Flint. He never suspects his feelings are returned. SLASH Marcus Flint/James Sirius Potter PWP CrossGen


**Intellectual Curiosity**

~000~

Marcus Flint was not considered attractive in a traditional sense of the word. But there was something about him that drove James to the limits of self-control. Too many times he had sat beside him at the Professor's table overlooking the students and felt his fingers itching as though covered with spiders to touch Marcus, even if it was only a brush against his sleeve.

His eyes were so deep they seemed black, and he had a dark sudden charm when he laughed.

James Potter was not a flamboyantly gay man. In truth, he'd never understood men that were. What was the point of behaving like a peacock? Maybe it was his upbringing. His father, although easily the most famous man in Magical Britain, insisted on modesty and made a point of avoiding all public spectacles. Now that he thought about it, the son of Harry Potter dating a pardoned Death Eater would certainly be a spectacle.

James knew that he was being ridiculous. Marcus had never given any indication of his sexual orientation one way or the other, but statistics were on the side of heterosexuality. James did his best to not let this bother him. He was twenty-five years old, much too old to be having crushes on dashing older Professors.

They never even spoken to one another. Well, not properly. Marcus had asked him to pass the butter, or the salt, and said Hello or Merry Christmas. But even all of those exchanges put together didn't make a conversation. Not that it was personal. Marcus was notorious for being a man of few words.

But despite Marcus' clear lack of interest and James' self-reprimandings, his crush persisted. It'd been three years now, three years of torture. Merlin, why did Marcus have to be so damned attractive? He was so masculine and rugged. As the Magical Creatures Professor, Marcus did a lot of work with his hands and was outdoors quite a bit, and it showed.

James let out a little sigh as he looked out the window. It was the day before the autumn term was to begin, and he was organizing his syllabus. Not that it needed much organizing. Ancient Runes was a fairly concrete subject, with well-established methods of teaching. Not like Magical Creatures, a relatively new field of study full of exciting new information and ideas.

There was a knock on his door. He was expecting the Headmistress, so he called 'come in' without looking up from his work. He'd known Delphine for a good many years, since childhood, and didn't see any point in standing on ceremony.

"Did you remember to bring those chocolate biscuits you promised me…?" James trailed off. It wasn't Delphine standing in his office. It was Marcus Flint, all six and a half manly feet of him. "Oh. Um. Hello. Can I do something for you?"

It came out colder than he'd expected, but he supposed that was better than being too friendly. He didn't broadcast his sexuality and preferred not to make a colleague uncomfortable with too much enthusiasm. It was a fine line to walk.

Marcus took a seat across from him, in the seat confused students normally occupied. He didn't waste words "I would like to borrow a copy of your syllabus."

"Why?" James didn't think before asking. He was just so surprised the question came out on its own.

"I am writing a comparative paper on modern versus traditional pedagogy."

"Oh how nice. But why _my _syllabus?"

Marcus shrugged his broad shoulders. James wondered if that little frown between his eyebrows was always there, or if he was stressed about something.

"You are the youngest professor here. I assumed you would be more modern than Binns."

James smirked, "Medieval monks are more modern than Binns," he cast a quick charm and made a copy of his syllabus. He handed it over, "I don't know how much good it will do you, since it's based heavily on the notes of my predecessor if we're being honest, but there you are."

Marcus accepted the syllabus. James, accustomed to Marcus' brusque manner, expected him to immediately rise and exit. He did neither. He sat and flipped slowly through the syllabus. James tried to focus on his work again, but soon gave up. He couldn't help it. His eyes stubbornly fixed on Marcus, lingering on the frown, the Roman nose, and the lips beneath it. Marcus had spectacular lips in James' opinion.

Marcus finished turning the pages over in his hands and stood, "Thank you."

James nodded, "Of course."

Marcus stood there a moment longer; his dark eyes met James' and held them. James stopped breathing. Then Marcus turned away and left. The door shut behind him and James inhaled deeply to make up for the air he'd missed. His heart was pounding in his chest. It was completely irrational, but for a long moment he'd thought that Marcus was trying to say something to him with that look.

He leaned back in his chair and corralled his thoughts, which wanted nothing more than to scatter in every direction. He soon gave up and set off for a brisk walk to clear his head.

This was getting out of hand. He needed to stop pining for Marcus and find himself a nice gay boyfriend, the kind his parents would like, not waste his time fantasizing about a mysterious straight man that rarely spoke.

~000~

A month passed before Marcus returned the copy. James had almost forgotten about it, and was surprised to look up from grading the seventh-year essays one evening to find Marcus standing in his office. He hadn't heard him knock over the sound of his radio. Flushing, he turned it off, and hoped that Marcus wouldn't judge him too harshly for listening to Celestina Warbeck.

Marcus' face was a mask of seriousness. He thanked James for the manuscript. Yet again, he stood there looking at him before turning to leave. He was at the door when James impulsively offered, "I could help you with your research."

Marcus looked at him. James went on.

"A friend of mine teaches at Beauxbatons. She's a year younger than me and very dedicated to new teaching styles. It's sort of her hobby. I could get you an interview, or maybe even some of her syllabi if she doesn't mind."

"Thank you. That would be very helpful."

James grinned. He knew he was smiling too much, and possibly playing with fire. He didn't care. This would give him an excuse to talk to Marcus, and maybe even work with him on his paper. He knew that Marcus was published fairly regularly in a number of scholarly publications; James had even read a few of his articles, the ones he could understand, and was fascinated by Marcus' ability to put things together that others hadn't considered.

Then Marcus did something extraordinary. He smiled back. It was only a small one, but James had never seen him do so before.

And then he was gone.

James began to give up all hope of ever getting over his infatuation.

~000~

Phoebe Scamander was extremely cutting-edge. James preferred to think of her as a mad artist in the wrong profession, but the fact was that Phoebe, despite her at-times bizarre teaching methods, was very effective. And when she wasn't, she was interesting, which is almost the same thing but not really.

She agreed enthusiastically to meeting with Marcus, but her English was rusty and she was banned from using translation charms after an incident with a foreign ambassador that is unprintable. James was perfectly aware of this, and had offered to translate. This meant he would be spending more time with Marcus. He tried not to think too hard about this new scheming side of his personality.

They met at her office in Beauxbatons over the weekend. The interview went well. Marcus seemed pleased and took a lot of notes; scribbling all over the syllabus Phoebe gave him.

When they had finished, they still had several hours until their Portkey to Hogwarts would activate. They had over-compensated on time just in case there was an emergency or Phoebe needed to reschedule at the last minute. It was Marcus who suggested that they go out to dinner.

James didn't know if he could eat. His stomach was full of pixies.

To his surprise, Marcus actually started and maintained a steady flow of conversation over the dinner table. James could tell he was excited about his new material; his eyes were bright and he frequently paused to wet his lips. James drank two glasses of wine rather quickly to help relax.

As a consequence, a sort of boozy comfort settled around him like a favorite sweater.

Marcus was a very intelligent man. James knew that he had been held back twice in school and found himself wondering why. Without meaning to, he asked Marcus why during a lull in the conversation. Marcus looked up from delicately assembling a forkful of fish and answered,

"My mother became very ill just before my fourteenth birthday and grew steadily worse for two years before she passed away. I was not in the proper state of mind to focus on my studies."

"Oh. Fuck, Marcus. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-"

Marcus gave him his small smile and said with surprising warmth, "Don't apologize, James. If I didn't want you to know, I would have lied."

James was silent. Marcus had never called him by his first name before. Marcus laughed suddenly, showing his strong white teeth. They seemed just a half-size too large for his mouth, and that discrepancy in size made them dreadful. James was uncomfortably turned on for no apparent reason. He flushed and looked away, asking,

"What are you laughing at?"

"Your face. It is very expressive. If I was deaf I could still follow a conversation with you; you're like a child, or a book."

James wanted to be irritated. He finished his third glass of wine in one gulp. Then Marcus added, "I like it," and James felt so full of confusing emotion that he excused himself to the restroom. Perhaps that third glass of wine was not the best of ideas.

Standing in the empty restroom, James stepped into a stall and leaned against the side. The metal felt nice and cool on his hot forehead. He lost track of how long he sat there trying to breathe normally and think straight. The wine was not helping.

He heard someone come in and hurried to sit so he wouldn't look suspicious. Someone knocked on his stall. James opened his mouth to protest. Before he could, Marcus' voice asked, "James? Are you in here?"

"Y-yeah, yes."

The door opened and Marcus smirked at him. James wondered what Marcus would have done if he was actually using the loo. Marcus stood there in the doorway looking at him for a while without speaking. James felt quite embarrassed to be sitting in a stall fully clothed and obviously having some kind of personal crisis. Finally Marcus spoke.

"Are you tired of my company?"

"No, of course not."

"Then why are you hiding in the restroom?"

"I…" James couldn't think of a single thing to say.

"Are you drunk?"

"A little," James admitted, looking at his shoes. He became keenly aware that Marcus was older than his father, though he didn't look it. There wasn't a single gray hair on his head, and looked closer to thirty than fifty.

"I don't mind, you know," Marcus said, stepping into the stall. He locked it behind him. it was not a large stall, and James had to struggle to not stare at Marcus' crotch, which was about level with his eyes. "I like you tipsy. You are not so shy with me."

"I'm not shy!"

Marcus smiled, "Yes you are. You pretend to be brash and try to be the poster boy of bravery, but you are more like your brother than you let on. Do not lie," he stopped James before he could try to protest, "I've been watching you. I know."

James swallowed. Marcus was watching him? If he'd noticed his well-concealed social anxiety, what else had he noticed?

Marcus lowered into a sort of squat so that they were eye-to-eye. This made it easier not to look at his crotch, but now James had to try not to stare at his lips. They looked soft.

"I've noticed other things too. I know that this interview was an excuse for you to be with me," James promptly stared at the floor, beyond humiliation. Oh fuck. "Do you want to seduce me?"

"What?" That was not what he was expecting. He was expecting a punch to the face at worst, and a condescending lecture about people his own age at best.

"Is that why you brought me here? To seduce me?"

"I…" James didn't know what to say. "I was curious about your work."

Marcus raised his eyebrows, "So all of this was just to satisfy your intellectual curiosity?"

James nodded. Marcus smiled wider then than James had ever seen. He was like the Cheshire cat, and so close James could smell the heady scent of his cologne. It smelled expensive, and very much like sex.

"I don't believe you."

Marcus kissed him. James couldn't have been more surprised, and didn't believe it was happening until Marcus gripped the back of his head and turned up the ferocity factor. James struggled to keep his head but, like most of his battles against Marcus, lost. He melted against the back wall and let Marcus kiss him until he was sure his lips were raw.

Marcus looked at him through half-lidded eyes after their kiss ended, and apparently saw what he was looking for in James' expression because he rose out of his crouch and held out his hand for James. He reached into his pocket and took out their Portkey. James had forgotten all about it. The Portkey was a watch. Most Portkeys were timepieces in some way, as per new regulations, and counted down their time.

He looked at the timer on it and saw that they still had two minutes. Marcus pressed him against the wall of the stall without warning and wrapped his arms tightly around him. James tried to ask what he had in mind but then Marcus was kissing him again and James once more forgot how to think.

His hands had somehow worked their way up the back of Marcus' shirt when the Portkey activated.

They landed in Marcus' study. It was smaller than James'. He didn't have time to get a very good look at it, though, because Marcus dragged him out and down the hall a few doors to his quarters.

James didn't even bother to put up a pretense of protest. He had no idea what Marcus was thinking or how far he planned to take this, and he didn't care. He just wanted Marcus to kiss him again.

Marcus didn't disappoint him. He slammed his door shut behind them and locked it before using it as a surface to press James against while worshipping his neck with his lips and teeth. James let out more than a few whimpers and didn't even have enough brain cells to feel embarrassed.

Not one to let himself be treated like a maiden, he pushed Marcus away to set to work on the buttons down the front of his chest. Marcus helped him, starting from the bottom to meet James halfway. James stepped out of his shoes and moved to remove his jumper. Marcus pushed his hands away and did it for him, removing his jumper and vest in one gesture. And then Marcus pressed his palm flat against James' erection through his trousers.

James sagged back against the door, overwhelmed. It had been too long since someone had touched him.

Marcus snorted and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, "You are drunk."

"I am not!" James protested. "I'm not a…a light weight!"

Marcus just laughed at him and escorted him to the sofa. James hadn't even taken a peek at the room until then. Like most Professors' quarters it consisted of a bedroom, a bathroom, and a living area. The door to the bedroom was open and James could see great stacks of books crowding the nightstand.

A hand unbuckling his belt got James' attention. He met Marcus' eyes and Marcus paused, "Too fast?"

"No."

"Good."

Marcus leaned in and pulled James closer by his hips. He pulled him so close that James decided it would be simpler to hook a leg over Marcus' lap and sit on him instead of beside him. Marcus didn't complain. He slouched back against the cushions and smoothed his hands up and down James' thighs. His eyes seemed softer here.

James was not short, but Marcus was big enough to make him feel like a teenager before his growth spurt again.

"I like you James. I am glad you decided to seduce me."

"I did not! I like you as well."

Marcus pulled him close and, instead of returning to his aggressive approach from before, began to stroke his back. This felt very nice, but James' trousers were open and he wanted to be touched again. He knew he wasn't the only one aroused. He could feel Marcus' arousal pressing against his sacrum through the stiff fabric of his trousers and it was driving him mad.

Marcus kissed his bare shoulders and sighed. He leaned back to meet James' eyes.

"I have changed my mind."

"What? Changed your mind about what?"

Marcus shrugged, looking regretful, "You are too drunk. We will continue this in the morning."

"What? You…you tease!" James hadn't felt this outraged since…since he couldn't remember. Marcus grinned at him, and only laughed when James started to slap the sides of his head with his palms out of frustration.

"Stop hitting me! I was joking!"

James stopped hitting him. He glared down at Marcus' smirking face. He should have known better to start carrying on with a Slytherin. Maybe his dad was right. Then Marcus asked him if he wanted to do this in his bed instead of on the sofa, and James stopped thinking about his dad.

Marcus was better at cushioning charms than James. His bed seemed to swallow him whole, and the very thought of doing anything remotely sexual on it was very appealing. He lay on his back, spread eagle, while Marcus removed his trousers and socks. He expected Marcus to leave his pants on but was surprised by Marcus shucking them off and strolling over to crawl on the bed without a shred of self-consciousness. Not that he had any reason to be self-conscious. Marcus should have been carved out of stone and put on display in a museum.

James removed his own trousers and socks, but hesitated to take off his pants. They weren't doing him much good as far as modesty went, being his smaller pair and on the thin side as far as fabric went. The shape and intensity of his arousal was obvious.

Marcus didn't look like he cared. He settled on top of James and let him guide the pace of their kissing. James found it difficult to keep himself under control as soon as he felt Marcus' admittedly large cock push against his thigh. This was followed by a large calloused hand pushing his legs apart so that Marcus could settle more comfortably between them. There was something erotic about the way Marcus dragged his thumb along James' inner thigh as he got comfortable. James bit his lip.

After a moment's though he bent his knees on either of side of Marcus, but as soon as Marcus rocked his hips against him, his legs ended up wrapped tightly around his back. Marcus moved his hips in a practiced deliberate way that made James wonder why the fuck he'd left his pants on.

Marcus was obviously thinking the same thing, because he suddenly separated James' legs and got up on his knees. James opened his mouth to ask what the matter was, but Marcus only grabbed his pants by the waist band and dragged them down and off. James flushed when Marcus' eyes settled on his crotch.

Marcus licked his upper lip and bent down to lay a kiss on a small bruise James had acquired on his inner thigh somehow. James went tense as a bowstring, wondering what Marcus would do next.

Marcus decided to suck his cock. There was no warning. He just bent his head and swallowed him whole. James knew he wasn't small, but Marcus wasn't having any trouble handling him. He held James' legs open and sucked him until James began whimpering, until he let out a gasping warning, and swallowed his release.

James was unable to speak for some minutes following that. During that time Marcus reached past his head and retrieved a bottle of lubricant that was tucked into the crevasse between the headboard and the mattress.

He lifted James' left leg and hooked it over his shoulder. James watched him through a haze of satisfied lust as he wet his fingers. Marcus sank a shallow bite into the side of James' calf at the very moment he stabbed a finger deep inside of him. James wasn't expecting that and let out a yelp. Marcus sucked the bite mark and stretched him at a tortuous pace.

He had begun scissoring his fingers when a brush against his prostate reawakened James' arousal. He felt fifteen as he hardened once again. Marcus stroked his prostate deliberately until James was squirming and moaning beneath him and fluid was dripping steadily out of his cock.

It was a testament to his state of mind that he hadn't even noticed when Marcus slipped on a condom, much less when he'd managed to slick it so well.

Marcus carefully pushed at him until James lay on his side with Marcus behind him. The tip of Marcus' heavy arousal dragged along the cleft of his arse before Marcus moved James' top leg to the proper position. He pushed inside with a grunt.

James hadn't had sex with a man since New Year's two years ago, and he barely remembered that incident. He hadn't realized how sexually frustrated he was until a sense of euphoria that he was about to be treated to a shag made his head spin. He bit his lip when Marcus pulled back and then moaned anyway when Marcus pushed in harder than he anticipated.

Marcus let him adjust to the way their hips moved together before making any moves to speed their rhythm. But as soon as James had figured out the optimal way to grind his hips against Marcus, Marcus grabbed hold of the headboard with one hand and James' hip with the other and began to shag him in earnest.

James cursed loudly and Marcus laughed breathlessly, his breath huffing against the back of his neck.

James was aware of the cliché of an older lover being more experienced, but he hadn't put much stock in that until that night. Marcus was a very talented man, and he knew exactly how to use his body to the best advantage. James had to stifle more than a few loud cries, and felt pleased when Marcus had to muffle his own in James' shoulder. Neither of them wanted to stop long enough to cast a silencing spell.

They didn't finish until close to three in the morning, proving the tales of stamina true, and Marcus refused to let him even consider returning to his own rooms. James lay awake as Marcus slept beside him, wondering what this meant and if he was just having a drunken fantasy.

~000~

He awoke the next morning to see Marcus already dressed and reading a book while propped up in bed beside him. Before James could even say 'good morning', Marcus smirked at him and said,

"Intellectual curiosity indeed."

~000~

End Intellectual Curiosity

I know this isn't a literary masterpiece. I just wanted to write a lemon and couldn't concentrate on Vivified.


End file.
